


Pearl (loosely based on the poem of the same name)

by FuryofHalone



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light Is A Shard of Azem (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryofHalone/pseuds/FuryofHalone
Summary: Emet-Selch remembers some things.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light
Kudos: 3





	Pearl (loosely based on the poem of the same name)

**Author's Note:**

> This poem screamed "Emet-Selch ANGST" at me when I read it for class and for better or worse, this story was born.
> 
> Pearl by Geoffrey Chaucer
> 
> "Since in that spot it slipped from me,  
> I lingered, longing for that delight  
> That from my sins once set me free  
> And my happiness raised to the highest height  
> Her going wounds my grievously;  
> It burns my breast both day and night.  
> Yet I never imagined a melody  
> So sweet as she, so brief, and slight.  
> But memory flossed through my mind’s sight:  
> I thought how her color in clods had lain  
> O dust that dims what once was bright,  
> My precious pearl without a stain."

I.

_“I will stop this,” She brought a hand to his cheek, quiet determination in her violet eyes, “and I will do it my way. Trust me?”_

_He leaned into her touch desperately, only marginally ashamed of the display. But it was still only a paltry comfort. He wanted so badly for her to stay. They both knew her chances of success were very nearly zero. Still, he had to believe in her this one last time._

_His Lilith. His sun._

  
Shaken from his reverie by the sound of the tempestuous waves beating against the shore, Hades brought his hand to where she had touched him then, focusing on how it had felt as if he could conjure her up before him with the memory. As if he could undo the past with it.

He did not know how long he had been there, gazing out over the water, and he did not care. He had nowhere he needed to be. Not anymore.

II.

The first lady of Garlemald was beautiful, but she was not _her_. Honestly, it mattered little. Her purpose was for procreation. But this knowledge did not stop him from yearning for what he had lost.

Sometimes when he was with his wife and he closed his eyes, he felt he could fool himself. He could picture the familiar violet hue of her eyes, the way it always came back to him in his dreams, and for a moment he could believe himself happy with what he had.

But the spell never lasted.

He never spoke of her, not even to his fellows. If they knew his torment they had not the mind to bring it up and he was grateful for it.

For torment it was. Sometimes he wished he could forget everything as Elidibus did, but that idea never stayed with him. How do you labor to bring back a past you cannot remember? Perhaps it worked for the Emissary, but never for him.

No.

Someone had to remember them.

_He_ had to remember _her_.

And over the ages he learned to exist alongside the ache in his being. The grievous wound for which there was no balm.

III.

She was a nuisance and a genuine threat. So much of one in fact, that the Emissary had thought it fit to call upon him.

Of all the things he expected of this “Warrior of Light,” her being a fragment of Azem was not one of them.

But that spirit was unmistakable. How many times had he gone back to that shore and searched for a soul this color, not knowing if he was relieved or devastated when he never found it?

And here it was, residing in one of the many fractured races of the shards. A Mystel, he believed they were called on the First. And a _Keeper of the Moon_ to be more specific.

Ironic.

The warrior said nothing as her comrades spoke, but she kept her gaze on him. It was piercing, never leaving him for a second. He felt himself grow warm beneath it.

Even as he spoke with the other Scions, he observed her. From his current vantage point, she seemed more like a glorified bodyguard than a celebrated warrior.He wondered what she would do if he tried to get closer or speak to her directly. 

In the end he thought better of it. He was not here to get close to her, no matter who he _thought she was._

IV.

Throughout her travels, he continued to observe _Kehda_ , as her friends called her. She was quiet and seemed to much prefer combat to diplomacy, but one thing was painfully the same.

Wherever she went, the warrior was not without allies.

Whether they be already established, or newly come and inspired by her deeds, she had a veritable flock of them behind her by the time she confronted Vauthry.

It was becoming painfully clear that he would not be able to hold on to his fantasy forever. Time was running out and he would soon need to put his plan in motion.

But in looking at her all he could see was the past. _Their_ past.

Days spent walking the city between convocation meetings. Lunches with her and Hythlodaeus. The rare nights when all three of them were home at the same time, cuddled together in bed, safe from the outside cold. He remembered her warmth, her love, her kindness, her brilliance.

The spell finally broke when he watched Kehda collapse to the ground, gasping for air as she struggled to contain the light within.

She was flawed.

Incomplete.

He had been a fool to ever think that this could work this way. He would have to stick to his original plan. It was the only true way.

Emet-Selch looked at the warrior of darkness once more, realizing that were he once thought he saw the sun, there was only the moon.

A mere reflection.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a twitter where I talk about my OCs and scream into the abyss from time to time. You can find me on their as @furyofhalone if you think watching my descent into ffxiv madness might be an interesting pastime.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
